


Torn Languish

by orphan_account



Category: High School - Fandom, Original Work, Sterling Chronicles
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Bisexual Female Character, Cheerleaders, Denial, Developing Friendships, Dissociation, Drugs, Dysfunctional Family, Enemies to Lovers, Established History, F/F, Falling In Love, Family Fluff, First Love, Friends to Enemies, High School, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Lesbian Character, Love Confessions, Mild Language, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Story - Freeform, POV Female Character, POV Third Person Limited, Pining, Plot Twists, Post-Divorce, Rivalry, Secret Crush, Trauma, Triggers, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23768173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Amity Blake has been battling both her feelings and her hatred for her high school rival ever since the incident that tore them apart. Now she must keep her emotions at bay in order to achieve her goals, but what more is there lingering just outside of her view?
Relationships: Amity Blake/Claire Rodriguez
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SkyeTops](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeTops/gifts).



> Hi! I wanted notes at the beginning of each chapter because there will be trigger warnings eventually. It starts out pretty slow and builds up, but something to keep in mind. When it reaches that point I will have the warnings here. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Light beamed through the white ripple fold curtains that hang silently in front of the window. While the fabric completely covered the glass, luster easily seeped through it, brightening the humble room in a way that wasn’t enough to illuminate objects, but enough to disturb sleep. The squeaking of a worn mattress on old springs creaked, mixing with the sound of tired groans to create the dreadful atmosphere of early morning. 

A hand slid out from under the quilt, tapping at the cellphone that rested screen-up on the nightstand, whimpering at how bright the device was as it was summoned to life. Fingers swiped over the glass, blindly flicking in the same motion against it until the screen dimmed. Eyelids fluttered, and bright blue hues fell onto the device, gliding over the time that was displayed on it: 5:37 am. School didn’t start for well over an hour, but at this point being awake was already a painful reality, and there was no need to prolong the inevitable. 

Bare feet met wooden boards and she reached out to twist the light switch as she stood, awakening a small lamp with a _click. Too bright._ When her eyes adjusted, they gazed back at themselves through a large scuffed body mirror that leaned against the wall in the corner, though it still took up a sizable chunk of her room. Messy blonde tresses fell down her back, caressing her toned shoulders that were concealed by her baggy tee-shirt, along with her curves. She turned slightly, examining her legs, fully exposed from just below the upper thigh, though her shirt dipped down to offer more coverage that her shorts did not. An expired breath fell from her lips, letting out a sigh, tiredness flowing away with the air as she became more alert, remnants of sleep drifting gradually to the back of her mind.

The floor creaked softly under her weight as she shuffled her way out into the darkness of the hallway. Despite limited lighting, she knew this house front to back, navigating the short stretch with ease, turning sharply into the bathroom and flicking the light on as she did so. Eyes met eyes once again in the mirror above the sink, her palms resting softly on the cool countertop as she leaned forward slightly. Sleepiness was expressed in the crinkles under her eyes, right above the light layers of freckles that spanned across her nose and down her cheeks. 

Another sigh, hands now moving to start preparing for the day. After a few moments of getting into her routine, the front door of their house swung open; she knew that’s what had happened because it always made a loud noise, one in which Dad simply described as ‘the screaming of door hinges in agony’. A minute or so passed, and she could hear the sound of soft rummaging in the other room before a voice rang out, “Amity, you up, kiddo?”

“Apparently so.” She called back, smirking into her toothbrush and listening to the heavy footsteps as they drew closer to the bathroom door. The sound of knuckle on drywall rapped, and Dad’s face peered around the edge of the door frame a moment later. She glanced over at him, now fully submerged in the familiar comfort of his presence. “Long night?” 

“Oh, you know it.” He said, exhaustion well written in his voice, though his expression was bright. It seemed it always was, no matter what the circumstances, and she loved him for that. His dark blue uniform matched his eyes and was wrinkled, the name ‘Blake’ embroidered on the right peck of his thick vest. Amity’s fingers were now struggling with a band as she attempted to stuff her hair into a bun, the sheer amount of it alone already putting her at a disadvantage; the best she was going to get was lopsided, but that was okay. 

“Where did they have you posted?”

“Ah, over at one of Luis Rodriguez’s buildings. _Supposedly_ , someone has been sneaking around, but I’m not sure how much of that I believe.” An all too familiar sense washed over her, causing Amity’s reaction to be quiet, humming softly in response to his words, though her brows dipped slightly. He continued, shoulder now leaning casually against the frame, “I don’t blame em, though. With all that fancy tech he’s got in there, I would be taking big precautions, too.” 

Her eyes flicked over to him, taking a small pump of facial cleanser in her hands. “He wants to protect his fortune from his doped-out ex-wife...” She said, almost in a hushed manner, blue hues back in the mirror away from him even before her statement was finished. Amity could sense her father’s concerned gaze resting on her, as her tone had been cold, but how could he blame her? He knew _damn_ well what _that_ subject held for her. 

The sound of running water rushing to pool in the bottom of the sink broke the brief silence held between them, her hands now cupping it and splashing it against her skin. Dad cleared his throat, “Well, I’ll be heading to bed here soon, but I’m willing to fix ya something up before I do if you want?”

“Coffee sounds nice.” 

“You got it.” Just like that, he was gone, out of the doorway and into the kitchen. The kitchen that was also partially the living room, in a way and the living room was basically the entryway, as well. Cozy. Warmth spread through her chest at his eagerness to start her day right, even after he clearly just had a long one of his own; he was more than she could have ever asked for. 

The floorboards creaked again as she made her way back into her bedroom. Amity shut the door behind herself, grasping the empty backpack that rested on the floor next to her nightstand; the nightstand that prevented her door from opening all the way, but that was okay. Shuffling over to her drawer at the foot of her bed, she began to pull things from it, setting them into her bag. _Cheer clothes, work clothes… check._ Her shirt then lifted over her head, being tossed haphazardly onto the pile of sheets on the bed that had been somewhat straightened out, along with her bottoms. 

Moments later she had another tee-shirt on, one that was white and slimming, with a red zip-up hoodie over that. Worn blue jeans brought the outfit together nicely, she thought, though that is what she thought _every_ day when she wore this outfit. No matter, it was comfortable. Amity’s body moved to the door once again, slinging her bag over her shoulder. As she did so, her hand grasped the phone from its resting place, and she shoved it into her pocket. A pang of something awoke in the back of her mind, and she stopped mid footfall to focus on it. 

“Hey, don’t go to bed yet.” She called down the hall after a short moment of hesitation, “I want to talk to you first… give me a second.” 

Her body was fully back in the room and sprawled across her mattress before he had replied, but she heard his muffled confirmation through the cracked door, and that was enough. She pulled the device out of her pocket, unlocking it and swiping once… her finger then hovered over an icon on the screen. Dread rushed through her again, starting to vibrate in the tips of her fingers. Bottom lip pulling between her teeth, she then pressed down, opening the app and clicking the search bar. Most recent search…

_Claire Rodriguez._

Amity groaned, disappointment weighing down heavily, and she momentarily glanced away from the cell, taking a deep breath. _You’re better than that_. Still, she clicked on the name seconds later, watching as the screen flooded with photos; all ones she had seen before. It was the only way she could see her outside of competitions, now. Eyes glued to the screen as her thumb casually swiped through the images, but after a moment, she let out another breath.

_There’s nothing to gain from this._

Her phone flipped off and was shoved roughly into the last free space of her backpack. Now slipping her white sneakers on, or at least, what _used_ to be white sneakers, she made her way down the hall. Her dad instantly greeted her from the single barstool that was next to the counter. 

“Well, don’t you look absolutely lovely today? Is that a new shirt?” he asked cheerfully, leaning forward slightly, hands extending to present her with a steaming cup. 

“Oh, you’re very funny.” She said, smiling softly at him as she grasped the mug, the heat of it warming her hands as she cupped it, moving to sit across from him. Her body rested on the arm of their recliner, still within a few feet of him. “Are you going to make it to the competition after school? It’s against the Shamrocks.” Amity’s tone was written with light enthusiasm and mixed with anticipation, which brought a small smile to her company’s face. 

“Ah, I’m sorry dear, duty calls.” His index tapped against the badge on his chest solemnly, “But I will definitely be at the state championship later this month. And that’s a promise!” Though her chest tightened at the mention of the championship, her smile never broke, even as the mug met her lips. He then let out a heavy sigh, hand grasping her knee lightly, squeezing it once as he stood up. “Off to bed.”

“Okay. See you tonight?”

“Of course, I’ll see you then.” He said as he leaned in and pressed a goodbye kiss to her temple. When he sauntered off and disappeared into his bedroom, she was left on the armrest alone, to her thoughts. Competition never made her nervous, at least not in the cliché way. It was common to hear about how you’re supposed to have an ache in your chest, or bouncing anxiety before a performance. Amity never felt like she fit into that cliché; she always carried the ache, the anxiety, the fear. Sports were simply a way of using that dread and pushing the energy into productivity, a distraction, something to keep your mind at bay. 

Cheerleading was an activity that she had grown attached to in middle school, enjoying the ability to express herself through the art of it, while also being fed by the satisfaction of competitiveness. She worked hard, and activities like this gave her the opportunity to show her ability, her talent. Long term, she had better goals, ones that were different and stable. But cheer gave her something to focus on that didn’t directly impact her future: a great outlet.

Her eyes darted up to the clock that rested above the stove. 6:15 am. Time to get going. Downing the rest of the holy liquid in her cup, she set the mug on the countertop, adjusting the strap of her bag so that it better rested on her shoulder. Amity moved to grasp at the hook next to the front door, three small keys on a chain, all she had ever needed throughout high school. Stepping out the door and into the cool Oregon air, she locked it softly behind her and made her way down the few concrete steps and onto the sidewalk. Their house was small, just like every house on this side of town, each the same, but just different enough not to feel tedious. Autumn nipped at her skin, and as she curled the corner she caught sight of the beat-up car in the driveway; an old police cruiser. She wished the guys at the head of the station would give her dad something better, something that wasn’t rust-covered and worn. But then again, it was a car and it worked. 

She turned one of the keys over in her hand as she worked to the other side of the house, eyes falling on an old bike that leaned there. Amity smiled softly to herself, grasping the lock and letting the chains fall from it a moment later. The school wasn’t far away, but it was too far to walk, and the bus was something she only tolerated in the winter months. Her leg swung over the side of it, wheeling down the drive and onto the all familiar route. 

She arrived in plenty of time, though the electronic digits that rested pitifully below the school sign said that she was late; everyone knew that clock was fast. No one cared enough to fix it. The school sign was worn, just like everything on this side of Sterling, a clear divide between the wealthy and the poor. It had no color, not really, the school name faded on the paper from an odd mix of continual sun and rain. The letters that spelled out _Sonya Bryce High_ were dreary, just like the blue and white color that was splattered on the sign around the words to add flare. The glue they had used to plaster the paper up showed through more than the actual _words_ did. 

With her bike now securely chained at the front of the building, she pushed through the heavy metal front doors, mixed in with the small wave of other kids entering; it wasn’t busy yet. The hallways were wide, too wide. The school attendance wasn’t necessarily small in number, at least not by their town’s standards, but the students who went there were. All of them living in this little world, completely off of the map. Amity took a few strides down the hall, breathing in the thick musty air and letting it out, making a turn and letting her body push through another set of doors. She always went to the school gym in the morning, no one was there at that time, so she-- 

“Amity!” A familiar voice rang out, and her blue eyes already rested on the source, knowing it would be there; it always was.

“Hi, Harper.” Amity greeted, arms opening to catch the girl as she practically leaped into her, the embrace feeling comfortable and secure. Harper had been her friend since freshman year, and while they didn’t share a taste for sports, the girl did share her quirks and similar life goals. It was hard to find people like that, just as weird and awkward as you, but also somehow likable. One of her few pleasant experiences at this high school. 

Harper’s body pulled back, hand swiftly moving up to her face to adjust the glasses that had been knocked ajar at the power of her own embrace. She was short, about the same high as Amity, but she was thin and lanky. Her glasses were thick and carried sturdy frames to support the glass. Long brown hair twisted into a braid that ran down her back, nearly reaching the place where her grey skirt met her white button-down, which was tucked neatly into it.

As Harper took a step back from her, Amity’s gaze moved from the other girl’s green eyes to fall on the tall boy who was approaching them from the same direction her friend had just come from. His skin was much darker in contrast to the pale of theirs, eyes a deep brown that was practically golden. “What’s up, Blake?” he asked, rolling his large broad shoulders which you could clearly see the size of, even within his large sweatshirt. At first glance, he seemed like the kind of guy that could crush the handle of your car door if he wasn’t careful, and his personality _was_ gruff. However, he was kind, and one _hell_ of a cheerleader. 

“Oh, you know…” She waved a hand in the air, somewhat dismissively. Not in the mood for small talk; her mind was on this evening. “How about the competition tonight, Aaron? Are you ready for it?”

He smirked at her, “Hell yeah. Shamrock High is going to eat it tonight. Can’t wait to see the look on Miss Priss’ face when we drive her into the ground along with the rest of them.” Aaron’s words brought a fresh wave of anxiety over Amity, knowing exactly where the conversation was now heading. A sharp intake of breath the only indication of her discomfort, masking the rest of it behind her halfhearted grin. 

“Hey now.” Harper cut in, moving between the two of them to better gain both of their attention, almost as if she _knew_ Amity’s heart was pounding so hard it had momentarily drawn her away.  
“Claire is not a _priss_.” The brunette girl paused a moment, processing the two gazes that were on her, each portraying very different emotions. She chuckled nervously, giving in a bit of ground on her argument. “ _Okay_ , maybe she _is_ a bit spoiled. But that’s not her fault! Think about her perspective. When your father has the most money of anyone in town, it’s hard not to let things get to your head.”

“And when did you become such an expert on bitchy Rodriguez?” Aaron asked, almost amusedly, knowing that Harper wouldn’t defend her forever, but clearly wanting to see her try. Amity’s eyes fell on the other girl, silently begging her to change the subject. Everyone in this town knew Claire, and her family name, so she _really_ needed to stop being so surprised when people mentioned her. No matter where she turned, Claire was always _there_. A constant reminder of-- 

“I never said I was an expert! I’m just trying to be reasonable.” Harper’s voice rang out, clearly irritated. “You never seemed to have a problem with her when she went to _our_ school and cheered for _our_ squad.” The girl’s eyes pierced up at Aaron, and he let out a halfhearted sigh, seemingly growing tired of the conversation. 

“She’s just competition. That’s all.” He looked towards Amity now, lighthearted words meant for her. “Besides, I only put up with her because _someone_ was always dragging her around with us.” 

_Why would you go there?_

“She was good at cheer.” Amity said plainly with a shrug, eyes flicking between the two of them, arms crossing her chest to hide the growing swiftness of her breaths. She wasn’t scared of confrontation, but this was different. Not something anyone would benefit from diving into. “Let’s just focus on the competition tonight. Beating them is a great step towards the championship.”

_Even if I have to see her._

Aaron’s body lit up, grinning now, “That’s what I like to hear! Beat them now, so we can take home the ship for our senior year.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter. 
> 
> There is a lot of foreshadowing... So it will seem dull, but trust me, it's worth it for later ;)

The subtle vibrations that began moving through her chest during the discussion in the gym never stopped, even as the three of them maneuvered their way through the wide hallways towards class. It was hard not to let her thoughts wander, drowning out every other sensation around them until it was just her, and her pondering. Amity blinked a few times, bringing her mind back to reality and partially tuning into the conversation that was taking place. 

“They’re going to get _stomped_ tonight.” Aaron said as his fist harshly met his palm, enthusiastic grin plastered across his chiseled features. Cheerleading was one of the few topics that got him _really_ excited, and the thrilled tone of his deep voice spread the excitement to her, fully drawing her back into the moment. 

“I hope you do beat them. Tanya will have your necks, otherwise.” Harper, who was walking in between the two of them spoke up, books from her locker hugged tightly to her chest. Aaron gave her a bit of side-eye, though he was still smirking, letting out a halfhearted chuckle. 

“She’s couldn’t recognize skill or talent if it bit her in the ass in broad daylight.” He said, and the brunette girl sighed but gave a sideways nod in agreement nonetheless; there was no denying that. “If anyone should be cheer captain it’s Blake, or me. Not Tanya. At least we’re respectable.” He spoke lightly, though his expression dipped more seriously. Amity smiled at his praise but understood his irritation with the situation. 

They came to a stop in front of one of the many creaky doors that lined the splintered walls of this school and bid Aaron a farewell for his first class. After the broad-shouldered teen disappeared into the classroom, the two girls shared a look, Harper giggling a bit. There hadn’t been any _real_ tension, but it was clear that Aaron held a serious amount of distaste for their cheer captain, even behind his joking tone. His true feelings about matters like this only spilled out under a mask of humor, but the two girls had figured out the code by now. 

“He _really_ doesn’t like her, does he?”

“He doesn’t like anyone.” Amity said, smiling to herself as they continued down the hall, knowing that he _did_ , he just had a different way of showing it. “I don’t blame him, though.” Harper gave her a puzzled look, prompting an elaboration. “For not liking Tanya, I mean. She only wants to win.”

“Yes, that’s all Aaron cares about, as well.” 

“Yeah,” Amity said as she moved towards her locker, one of the dozens in this section, beginning to twist a combination into the lock. “but Aaron cares about _cheer_. He likes the skill, not just winning. All Tanya cares about is whether or not people are disrespecting her authority.” She scoffed under her breath imagining it, but let her frustration out with a sigh. There was a click, and the blue door swung open, revealing a worn and slightly rusted interior of the space. Her backpack swung off of her shoulder, moving into the locker after some of her books were taken out of it. There wasn’t enough room for both, but not because she had too many books, or because her backpack was too large. It just… wasn’t spacious. There was a silence between them for a moment. 

“What do you like about cheer?” Harper asked, changing the subject in a way that caused Amity’s gaze to flick back questioningly, before shutting the locker door and twisting the lock again. “I just…” Harper sighed, “I worry about you sometimes.”

“Why?”

“Well, I know you _love_ to cheer. And I love watching you, it’s just… You don’t seem as into it. Not like when I first met you. Sometimes it feels… _strained_.”

A familiar heaviness fell onto Amity’s chest once again, and it rested there even as they started to walk towards their first class. She knew the girl was implying something, which caused her to become tense, mind rushing to figure out what it was, while still holding her composure. “I’m fine, Harper. Cheer is a great outlet for me, you know that. It’s just for fun.” Harper clearly wasn’t satisfied by that answer, and Amity could feel her eyes on her, not prying, but unsatisfied and probing. She turned her head to meet the gaze. “Listen, I want to win just as much as Aaron does. It’s our last year, and we’ve never won a championship before. What’s so wrong with wanting to?”

“Nothing, I suppose…”

“I do everything the best that I can.”

“I know. That’s why I worry, Amity. You would force something like this, even if it isn’t something that you actually wanted.” Harper was the one to break their eye contact, looking ahead of them now, but her words were sharp and stung slightly after they were spoken. What she said wasn’t wrong, Amity _would_ push something. But there was nothing _wrong_ with that. She needed to win, their school reputation would thrive, and while she didn’t necessarily care about that, it would give her something to look back on and be proud of. “If something is wrong, do you promise you’ll tell me?” Harper spoke again, looking back over to her in a concerned manner. Amity was silent a moment: nothing felt wrong, but clearly Harper was seeing something that she _wasn’t_ , or at least, something that she _wouldn’t_. The girl could read her like a book, and while it was the thing that had initially brought them together, sometimes it was hard to deal with. Lucky for her, Harper wasn’t pushing anything, but she would eventually if Amity didn’t get whatever hidden signals she was unknowingly putting out under control. 

“Okay, I promise.”

***

School went by in a blur like it always did. It wasn’t slow, and it wasn’t fast, it was school. She liked all of her teachers, and most of her classes were fine. The harder ones were what she enjoyed most, and usually were the ones shared with Harper. The two of them were a team when it came to advanced placement, both sharing a passion for learning. They both had dreams of leaving this town, becoming something better. While they didn’t necessarily intend on doing that together, it was nice to have someone with a similar mindset. Pushing you to be the best, even in less than ideal circumstances. _No one_ in this town made it out, not from her side. You either worked to join the rich, and then moved up and out, or, if you had fewer resources, you stayed poor. If joining the rich was easy, everyone would do it, which made it even harder not to resent those who were _born_ into it. 

Now it was evening, and thick tension rested in the air as the competition drew closer. Amity stood in front of one of the several locker room mirrors, straightening her hair as the last means of her preparation for the competition. Other girls surrounded her, applying makeup and gossiping loudly to each other, their hair done up in blue bows to match their uniforms. Amity didn’t mind the squad, for the most part they were talented girls, but the way Tanya used that talent distorted it, and caused most to care more about how their backsides looked in their skirts and spandex than actually winning. If they had someone different calling the shots, then maybe they would actually have a chance at the state championship, rather than wasting efforts trying to be something they weren’t.

“Alright, listen up.” A high voice rang out, causing the loud chattering of the room to quiet. Their cheer captain stood up on one of the benches, grasping their attention. Her long brown hair pulled up high just as all of theirs were, legs exposed from below the mid-thigh; their uniform’s coverage stopped there. Everyone began finding a seat on the benches; everyone but Amity, whose eyes were scanning the room, unfocused. “This is absolutely huge for us, Shamrock High is—…” Amity took a few steps towards the door, the squeaking of her tennis shoes cutting the girl off as the room’s attention slowly turned to her and away from Tanya, whose eyes were now piercing down on her, awaiting an explanation. 

“You forgot Aaron.” Amity said, heart fluttering with the sudden attention, though she kept herself contained as she finished walking to the door, propping it open with her foot and turning back to face them. “The most important part of our routine...?” Her head poked out the entryway, finding Aaron waiting there. He wasn’t allowed to just waltz into the girl’s locker room, for obvious reasons, but right before they went out for a performance he met them there to go over the team plan and go onto the field with them. Unfortunately, Tanya Bryce wasn’t much of a team player, and clearly had something against him, which everyone knew was solely the fact that he was a guy. Amity could hear the girl scoff as the room around them giggled, her and Aaron moving to take a seat on one of the benches in the far back. 

“Right… Anyway…” Tanya carried on with her speech, the one she gave every time they had a competition. Stakes were high, needed to win, couldn’t let her down, yada yada. Both Aaron and Amity could paraphrase the entire thing to a point. Though she couldn’t deny that today _was_ an important day. Their direct rivals needed to be beat for moral, though it was hard to agree with how Tanya went about encouraging the squad to do their best. Not only did their looks have to be perfect, white and blue uniforms fresh, hair collectively done into ponytails, aside from Aaron, obviously, but everything about their performance needed to be done to her satisfaction, as well. 

The ringing of Tanya’s voice was just a pang in the back of Amity’s mind as she zoned out; they had been over their routines so many times already, it was more than dull to listen to, so she didn’t. Competitions were simple enough, each squad preformed a routine for some judges, then went through a few smaller group routines to flaunt their different strengths. It was fun, and she enjoyed the competitive nature of it. She also looked forward to seeing the Shamrocks, as they had only competed with them once before in a direct cheer competition. It would be nice to get a look at their squad… 

The girls around them began to stand, and she dove back into reality as the competition loomed closer. “Oh, and Amity?” The cheer captain looked to her as the other girls began filing out onto the field. “You’re cut from the main gig.” 

“Really, you’re going to be like that? It’s too last minute—…” Aaron stepped in, looking down at the girl with an extra stripe on her uniform, the only official thing that made her captain. Amity grabbed his arm, giving him a reassuring look that caused him to stand down, though her own irritation was bubbling close to the surface. 

“Why?” Amity asked, eyes blazing up at Tanya. It was a power move, of course. It wasn’t for the good of the actual squad, it was for the good of her own satisfaction. The captain gave Amity a glare but didn’t reply to the question, her attention swinging to Aaron. 

“Liz is doing the kick-single, now. Be ready to help her.” Tanya then turned on her heel and strode out of the room. Amity could practically feel her smug look, even if she couldn’t see it, and her frustration started to rise. Aaron gave her a confused glance, brow arched. 

“She acting like that because you let me into the locker room?”

“I think. Her ego is...” Amity growled, letting out a sigh, unable to find the right words. 

“Ginormous? Unbearable? Excruciating?” Aaron nudged her once in the shoulder with his knuckle as they began to follow the rest of the group out onto the field, which made her smile. She wasn’t the most skilled player, but she did work hard and had talent to bring to the table. Normally this wouldn’t bother her so much, but she knew that Tanya was making a mistake, for the gain of her ego. 

As they stepped out of the locker room and onto the field, the bright sun shone down on them through the autumn breeze. The air had a salty tang to it, Sterling resting not far from the coast. It was something to do in the summer; trips to the beach. They were never white and sandy like you see on TV, but traveling there was something other than worn arcades or strip malls that looked like they were falling apart at the seams. Another reason to want to get out of this town. 

The locker room was on one side of a section of the bleachers, so as they emerged, Amity twisted to see who was up in the stands watching. Just Harper, whom she received a wave from, and on the other side there was a boy that she didn’t quite recognize. In front of them spanned the football field, and right in front of the upright on the end closest to them sat a fold-out table with three judges seated behind it writing on clipboards. The two of them joined the rest of their group on one side of the end zone, just waiting for the other squad to show so they could get started. 

Tanya was chirping, perusal, at anything with a pulse. It was annoying, but it didn’t really matter, Amity wasn’t part of the group routine anymore, which meant she didn’t need to pay attention. It honestly gave her a bit of relief. The air wasn’t as thin anymore, though tension still remained, both because she still had a side routine to preform, and because of the fact that she would have to see—

“Ugh, here they come.” One of the girls scoffed as she gestured towards the other side of the bleachers, green and black blurs emerging from the opposing locker room. It didn’t take Amity’s gaze very long to fall on the one leading them, extra stripe on her dark long-sleeve uniform.

_Claire._

Amity instantly got the sensation that she was choking, even though she hadn’t spoken, or even moved. The girl’s presence alone was enough to hit her right in the gut, nerves stirring. The Shamrock squad stood on the other side of the upright, though they were still close enough to talk to, which is exactly what Tanya was trying to do. “Oh look, its _Rodriguez_. That name isn’t going to do much for you here, now is it?” 

Amity, despite being somewhat hidden behind Aaron’s body, could see Claire looking through Tanya as if she were made of glass, not even bothering to give her a once over. The Shamrock captain’s uniform was short, and unlike Amity’s school, they didn’t wear spandex underneath. Her eyes traced up the girl’s long tan legs, and her mind lingered on the possibility of getting a glimpse underneath. She swallowed thickly, blinking once before continuing to travel up the slim body until she found her face. Claire’s hair was bright red and short, hardly meeting her shoulders with hints of her dark natural color. Her ears were lined with black piercings, ones that matched the hue of her eyes. 

“Looks like _someone’s_ a little nervous today.” Claire exclaimed, seemingly towards Tanya, and clearly to get a chuckle out of her squad, but her gaze was elsewhere, scanning over Amity’s group. Tanya made another remark, but Amity couldn’t hear it, eyes captured by the face of the girl that broke her heart. And then their eyes locked, Claire smirking as soon as they did. 

_Oh, god._

Amity broke away, now noticing how shallow her breaths were. 

_Just focus on the competition._

A few minutes ticked by slowly as final preparations were made, each group keeping to themselves. Then the judges called the competition to a start, Bryce Bulldogs preforming first. Members of Amity’s squad made their way out onto the field, leaving her and one other on the sidelines. Amity clutched one of her wrists with her free hand, trying to keep her focus pulled away from the girl that had such a strong grasp on her, still. She didn’t have time to focus on _why_ she still got under her skin, for now, she just needed to keep herself under control. All she had to do was last three minutes, that was all. Just three minutes. 

“Aw, stuck on the sidelines, _Bitty_?” A voice rang out from her side, startling enough to cause a flinch. Instantly recognizing the sound, her gaze shot over to the source, finding Claire standing next to her, hands planted firmly on her hips, looking down at her expectantly. 

“What do you want?” Amity’s words came out irritated but held tones of fluster, turning to partly face the rival, chin tilted up to hold her gaze. The negative reaction is clearly what Claire had wanted, proved by the smug grin that moved across her features in acknowledgment of it.

“Just greeting the competition, of course. A _friendly_ gesture.” The girl cooed, eyes drifting to give Amity a swift once over, an action that nearly caused the smaller girl’s heart to leap into her throat. It was becoming increasingly harder not to let her eyes follow suit and wander the opposing captain’s body again. “Though, it kind of seems like you’re not doing very much competing, are you?” 

“You talk too much.” 

“Maybe you’re too _quiet_.” The swift comebacks were hard to process, and Amity looked away, beginning to feel overwhelmed, finally breaking the tense gaze between them and shifting hers to the ground. A moment later she felt one of Claire’s fingers dragging down her arm, the contact immediately whipping her focus back up. She scowled as she took a small step back and rubbed a hand over where she had been touched, forcing the lingering sensation of it away. She knew she couldn’t handle anything like _that. Change the subject._

“Shouldn’t you be _watching_ the competition?”

“I should, shouldn’t I? But there’s nothing interesting over there.” Claire gestured towards the squad that was moving through one of the last portions of their routine. “Besides, I know that you _love_ the attention from me.” The words sent heat flushing to Amity’s face, and Claire immediately took the signal, continuing to press. “Come on, bottom dweller, talk to me—…”

“Stop it!” Amity’s tone was livid, but hushed, not wanting to draw attention to the two of them, or at least not any more than they already had. Her shoulders tensed, turning to completely face the other once again, eyes glaring up at her. “Whatever you’re trying to do… stop.” Her words caused Claire’s brows to dip slightly, but her pleased look only seemed to grow. 

“Oh, fine. You never were any fun.” She said, leaning back slightly onto her heels, as she had been hovering closely over her. “If that’s what you _really_ want, I’ll go.” Amity felt her palms clam up, holding those deep brown eyes and trying not to completely lose the composure that was already well past crumbling at the edges. 

“Yes. Go.” 

“Alright, your wish is my command.” Then, just like that, Claire turned, strutting back towards her squad group. Even in the midst of Amity’s frustration, she couldn’t keep her eyes from lingering on the uniform that clung so tightly to the other’s curves. She didn’t realize that she was staring until her eyes trailed up to meet the dark ones that were piercing back over her shoulder, a wide smirk accompanying them. Claire _knew_ that she would be looking, it almost seemed like she had been counting on it. Amity drew a sharp breath, glancing away and biting down on her bottom lip. Why were these feelings still so fresh in her mind? After all this time? She let out a slow exhale. 

_How am I going to make it to the championship like this?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild trigger warning for this chapter. One of the main characters does struggle with dissociation, and it is briefly explained and experienced in this chapter. It will be present throughout the remainder of the story.
> 
> Nothing too crazy, but something to be aware of.

“Can you believe that?” A hand roughly crashed against her shoulder, pushing with enough force that it nearly made her stumble. “ _Hello_ , Blake?”

“Huh?” Her blue hues drifted to find Aaron standing at her side, his touch pulling away now that he had her attention. The expression across his features was filled with agitation, lips pressed firmly together, eyes narrowed.

“Where you even _watching_ the fuck up of a routine we just did?”

“Yes… Well, no…” Her mind felt outside of itself, not completely within the moment. Claire hadn’t even batted an eye in her direction before now, let alone approach her. They had competitions together before, but nothing like this had ever come of them: this time Claire had approached her, talked to her, _touched_ her. For some reason, it sent Amity into a spiral, and she was beginning to fear that she wouldn’t be able to recover in time for her performance. Aaron scoffed, crossing his arms tightly against his chest with a long groan. 

“I saw you with Claire.” He spoke through gritted teeth, “You need to get your head in the game.”

She let out a slow exhale through her nose, he called her out and he wasn’t wrong; she was letting this under her skin more than she should be. Maybe that was Claire’s intension; to gain an advantage by flustering the competition. Though that didn’t make a lot of sense, because Amity wasn’t part of the main routine, even if she was distracted it wouldn’t heavily impact the scores. If anything, Claire should have been focused on Tanya, but she had hardly even acknowledged her when given the chance to. 

Amity swallowed thickly, nodding once to show understanding of what Aaron said. His heavy footfalls stomped away from her, and she already felt herself slipping away again. Feeling like this wasn’t new to her, the sensation of disconnect which was usually sparked by something that upset her. It had started when her mother passed away: made things easier, because it gave the impression that her worries were far away and unimportant, almost like unplugging from reality. She used it more and more, and now this coping mechanism came and went as it pleased, overwhelming, and uncontrollable at most times. 

The Shamrock squad filed out onto the field, prepping for the judges. Claire was in the front of their line, showing her leadership as captain and anticipating the start of their routine. Amity kept her eyes trained, studying the girl that she knew so well and yet was also a complete stranger to her. Claire was so different now, money and status had clearly taken a toll on her, given how different she appeared. Yet she was still the same, and she still gave Amity the same _feelings_. It frustrated her to no end.

_But why?_

The judges announced the beginning of the second routine, preparing their grading papers on clipboards. That same moment, Claire locked gazes with Amity, the sheer intensity of it giving her butterflies that fluttered around in her stomach. The red-haired girl managed to radiate such confidence, and how she carried herself alone was more than enough to make her attractive. Even before her wealth, she held herself high, maybe too high at times, but that was always okay. She had charisma and sarcasm, and Amity was clearly never able to _truly_ let go of the admiration she felt for her. 

Claire’s attention shifted slightly as the music began to play, moving upwards towards the bleachers. Her hand swiftly covered her mouth, wrist flicking out as she blew a kiss in the direction of her gaze, toothy grin following it. Then, her body awoke into controlled movement as the performance stirred to life. Amity’s chin turned over her shoulder to follow the aim of Claire’s gesture, eyes quickly finding the only person in the bleachers, other than Harper. His elbows were propped up by his knees, body leaning forward slightly with his chin resting on his balled knuckles. Amity had noticed him before, though now his hood wasn’t shadowing his features and she could clearly make out the crookedness of the smile he wore. 

_Tyler Johnson._

A sinking feeling dropped in her chest, both at the recognition of _who_ he was, and at the acknowledgment of who he was to _Claire_. Not only was he all over Claire’s social media, but he also had a relatively big reputation in town. He had won a national award a year or so back… something that had to do with computers, though she couldn’t quite recall; computers definitely _weren’t_ something that excited her. Amity audibly groaned, eyes scanning over the scrawny teen that sat in the stands. He was a tech geek with no personality and no drive, she thought despite not knowing him personally. There were even rumors of his parents kicking him out, presumably because he wasn’t committed enough to carry on their family’s business, probably because it had nothing to do with technology. He was entirely selfish, refusing to take advantage of the privilege he was born into, for whatever reason. 

_Nothing but a lazy low life._

People on this side of town mostly got their gossip from what took place within the rich side. Amity knew about Tyler from hearing bits and pieces of rumors that occasionally went around. However, like with any rumors, the information was probably only a shell of the truth, but still. If negative things were spread about him, they couldn’t _all_ be wrong. Though maybe she was biased… 

Turning back to face the Shamrock squad once again, she watched as the girls performed what was left of their admittedly _very_ well-executed routine, which would have been a masterpiece even if it _hadn’t_ been performed perfectly. Amity couldn’t deny that they were talented, but that was to be expected from them; they had the best training in the state. 

As the music began to fade and the Shamrocks lined up for their final stunt, the last beat dropped and the girls at the front of the line collapsed into splits. Seeing Claire move like that stirred feelings Amity hadn’t felt in a long time, and she nearly lavished in them. Despite these feelings, and how _good_ they were, frustration was most present in her mind. The main point that she _needed_ to keep reminding herself was that she _shouldn’t_ be feeling this way, even if she _wanted_ to. After everything Claire put her through, these feelings were unjust and simply _wrong_. Amity needed to _let it go_ , but that was proving so much harder than she ever would have thought, the fact she was feeling them at all was daunting.

***

Later that evening, the squeaking of sneakers on freshly mopped flooring bounced through the barren front hallway of the school as Amity made swift strides towards the exit. The rest of the competition had been more than a disaster, and she needed to get out before anyone else stopped her to _talk_ about it. She had already endured an absolutely _pleasant_ talk with _Tanya_. Amity knew that everything said was just her captain taking out her own frustrations, but that didn’t make the interaction any easier to sit through. 

Not only did their squad lose the group performance, but they also failed nearly all of their smaller stunts, too. Any that they actually managed to pull off always fell short of points in comparison their competition. It was embarrassing, and even after taking Tanya’s incapability of creating a decent routine into account, it was still very unexpected. They had been working so hard for this, and yet they still failed. Clai- the _Shamrocks_ had gotten to her much more than she ever would have anticipated, and the team seemed to suffer just as much, if not more.

Pushing herself through the front doors of the building now, she stomped over to where her bike was chained to the racks. Her fingers fumbled with her keys as she attempted to unlock the bike from its chain. An odd feeling seeped into her mind, strong enough to cause her head to whip over her shoulder. She scanned the parking lot, drifting around the scene in search of anything out of the ordinary that might have sparked the sensation.

Very few cars remained, a few old beaters were parked up front, most likely belonging to teachers, given the reserved parking spots; but no one actually respected the reserve signs, so the cars _could_ be student’s, not that it mattered. There were a couple of newer vehicles scattered in the lot as well, clearly belonging to any of the Shamrock squad members that had yet to leave. Her eyes fell on an old beat-up truck that she recognized as Harper’s, and moved to examine the brand-new car that was parked just behind it. It was an SUV, clearly in its first few years: pristine in every way, it even had custom plates. A sticker on the front bumper advertised Mr. Rodriguez’s business, which seemed out of place, but regardless it led Amity to the swift conclusion that the vehicle belonged to Claire. Movement flickered on the other side of the tinted windows, which caught her attention. She could make out the shadows of two bodies and knew it had to be Claire and Tyler, which made her stomach twist in detest. 

“Amity?” The voice nearly startled her, feeling a gentle hand resting on her elbow and she immediately shifted her focus away from where it had been. Harper was standing just behind her, concern heavy in her expression. “Are you doing okay? How is your ankle?” 

“Oh… It’s fine. It was only a _little_ embarrassing.” Amity smiled despite herself, though returned her attention to her bike, finally shoving the key harshly into the lock and twisting it. Harper’s question brought her mind back to the competition, when she _fell down_ during her _one_ side routine. Aaron had already given her an ear full for it, just as their captain had, and that was plenty enough for her. Him and Tanya actually had more in common than they would admit, which was interesting… Harper let out a gentle sigh. 

“How is Claire? I saw her talking with you earlier… What did she say?” Amity’s face grew warm, hands forcing the chains into her backpack just a little harder now, slightly turning her head away from the other so that she wouldn’t pick up on the flush.

“She was just… saying hi.” 

“Does seeing her still… upset you?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Amity’s tone had lost any hints of lightness it once held, and she turned to give Harper a look, not wanting to go into any more detail about it. Talking about _her_ would only make the feelings worse because it meant _acknowledging_ them. Not to mention that Harper would more than likely _encourage_ Amity to accept and possibly even pursue the feelings. Forgetting about Claire would then become an even more daunting task, maybe even impossible, and that wasn’t what she wanted.

_Right?_

“I understand… Do you want a ride to work? We can lift your bike into the bed and I’ll take you over?” Harper jangled her keys in front of her face a few times, offering a warm grin. Amity returned the smile but shook her head, leaning in and wrapping the other in a short embrace.

“No, that’s alright. But thanks, Harper.” 

As Harper pulled out of the lot, Amity took one last look at that white SUV before she took off on her bike. Without the truck in the way she had a much better angle, able to see through the tinted windows a little more. Two figures _were_ there, but it didn't look like they were being intimate as she had assumed they would be. It appeared that Claire was yelling at Tyler, and they were arguing with each other…

_Why is that relieving?_

***

The next day at school Amity navigated her way through the crowded cafeteria; clutching a brown paper bag in her hands, she took a seat next to Aaron at one of the tables. He greeted her with a casual nod, but he didn’t say anything and he didn’t look up from the food that he was picking at. She knew that he was frustrated with her, he had made that very clear the day prior, but she wanted to talk with him about it.

“You still upset?” Amity glanced over to him, and he finally caught her eye, just briefly. 

“No. I’m disappointed. That competition was big for us, and we failed.”

“Yes, but we still have time before the championsh—…”

“Blake.” He cut her off, shifting on the bench so that his torso was fully facing her now, elbow moving down to rest on the table next to his lunch tray. “We have got to get our act together if we want to win. And that means that Tanya _has_ to change, and _you_ …” Her heart sank as he trailed off, feeling a spike of dread, brows pulling together as she leaned in more. 

“And I what?” Amity asked, tone sharp and questioning despite deep down knowing what he was getting at. She just wanted to hear him say it, she needed to hear it. 

“You need to figure out whatever shit is going on with Claire.” Aaron’s words caused a flare of disappointment, and her focus immediately shifted away. 

“I don’t have any _shit_ with Claire. _You’re_ the one that brought her up the other day.” She spoke quietly, and her eyes flicked up to meet his again, which were now carrying a lot of offense.

“Amity, get real. I never had a problem with her. In fact, I was completely fine with her around before she transferred schools, because _you_ had such a thing for her. But now she’s bad news.”

“You only tolerated her because she was good at cheer! And… I didn’t _really_ have a thing for her. It was more of a--...” 

“Yes, you did. And she took _advantage_ of it. How are you still in such denial about that? It seems like you’re completely forgetting how much she fucked you over.” The words hit deeply, prying at her emotion. Amity was silent after that, shoulders caving in slightly, hands folded tightly across her midsection. 

“I didn’t forget.” She mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. How could she forget? Claire had been in her life since middle school, they grew up together, went to the same high school too, for a while. They were nearly inseparable, an unlikely pairing but… it was wonderful. Then everything happened and… 

“I’m… sorry, Amity.” A moment later his hand was placed on her shoulder, easing her rising distress. “But you have to remember what happened, who your _real_ friends are. I don’t want to see you hurt like that again. You have to choose, _her_ or your goals. Given the facts, she’s only going to drag you down.” Amity gave him a nod, acknowledging where he was coming from, but not finding comfort in it. She _did_ try to avoid thinking about it, because it was easier to remember Claire for who Amity _knew_ she was, or at least, who she used to be, not for what happened between them. But maybe he was right, maybe she _did_ need to keep that in mind, be realistic and stop focusing on idealities. 

Claire grew up on the poor side of town, not far from Amity. They had a great relationship, practically inseparable from the day they met: Claire had stood up for Amity _once_ in sixth grade and they were never apart after that. Mr. Rodriguez struck gold with his business their freshman year of high school, and that is when Claire began to really pull away for the first time. Claire was popular, even before her wealth, constantly the center of attention, very outgoing. She liked an audience, but wouldn’t let anyone close, distant by nature. However, when they were together, just the two of them, it was different. Amity _knew_ her, not for who she pretended to be but… for who she was. They stayed close until the end of sophomore year, before the divorce between the Rodriguez’ was finalized and everything _officially_ changed. After that, Mr. Rodriguez moved to the rich side, taking Claire with him. She transferred schools, and over a gradual period of time cut communication with Amity completely without explanation. 

Amity had speculated that maybe the shock of such a big change played a part in it, but she eventually came to the conclusion that it was because Claire now had something better. No matter how much Amity had tried to stay close with her, the girl continued to pull away faster and faster until there was nothing between them anymore. She wasn’t surprised by it; Claire was rich, with nice new clothes and wealthy friends. A _huge_ house, a good support system, for the most part: her mom didn’t have much contact with her anymore, due to her substance abuse. But Claire still had her father, her _boyfriend_. 

Though truly, at this point Amity really didn’t know anything about her. Now the only new information she had was what was displayed by social media or rumors, but that wasn’t much to go on. The number of times Amity wanted to reach out to her was immense, but she never could bring herself to do it, couldn’t find enough strength to face the rejection again. What they had… what they _could’ve_ had, it was gone. 

“You’re right… I need to let go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each new update will happen within two weeks of the last one. I'm definitely going to finish this story, but I'm going to take more time in between chapters to ensure the quality is the best that it can be! 
> 
> Thanks for getting this far! ;3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for this chapter: A character goes into a panic, which is sparked by physical contact.

Objectively, Claire felt like something unfinished, holes and answers missing from the story in an incredibly unsatisfying manner. It wasn’t easy to just accept that and move on, no matter how much she knew it was for the best. Her thoughts were constantly dominated by it, the conversation she had with Aaron swimming through her mind even through cheer practice later that day, outside reality. Tanya was chirping at the squad, loud and obnoxious, though it was just a pang in the back of Amity’s mind, as if it were coming from a different place entirely. Sometimes Amity wondered how she managed to do _anything_ , considering how often her brain checked out of the moment. 

The championship was now less than two weeks away, and their new routine was suffering immensely, for _many_ reasons. It wasn’t _bad_ , but due to circumstance, it seemed everyone was completely burnt out and pessimistic. Aaron was the most enthusiastic of them all when it came to cheer, and even _he_ seemed to be growing tired of Tanya’s games and the collected failure of the group. 

“Let’s _go_. You guys have been messing up this stunt for thirty minutes now, and nothing is improving. _Whose_ fault is this? _Hm_?” Tanya always carried herself a little too high, and her attitude only seemed to be growing worse as the championship grew closer. Her mindset reminded some of how Claire acted, though Amity didn’t find the two similar: Tanya was condescending, not confident. 

“Amity.” Tanya snapped, “Have _any_ ideas why this isn’t working for us?”

“I don’t know,” Amity said with a small shrug: she wasn’t going to be the one to enlighten Tanya that _she_ was the problem. 

“I got a few _ideas_.” Aaron said, glaring at Tanya who returned the sour glance immediately. Amity shifted her weight, losing interest in the practice even more as the two of them began to bicker. Her eyes glanced around the area, overcast skies aiding the dispiriting atmosphere of the school’s football stadium. The field they were standing on was real grass, which is why their shoes couldn’t _really_ be considered white anymore. It was somewhat maintained, but the paint used for the field markings hadn’t been sustained; cones on the sidelines were the only thing that indicated the yards. The uprights were yellow like they should be, but heavily rusted, as were the bleachers that closed in the area. 

She looked over the empty rows of seats, ones that she knew from experience were uncomfortable to sit on. They made your tailbone ache, and your backside freezing cold from the metal, even on a sunny day. It made her appreciate the fact that Harper came to watch their practices as much as she did, always dealing with the discomfort for the sake of being supportive. She wasn’t seated there today, had a family event that she needed to attend instead, but of course, that was okay. 

Though to Amity’s surprise, as her gaze wandered, there _was_ someone that caught her eye. At the very top of one of the sections was a figure, and Amity squinted to get a better look at the face hidden within the hood. It almost appeared to be Tyler, looking like the same grey hoodie she saw on him yesterday. 

_But why would he be here?_

One of the girls noticed Amity’s distraction and followed her gaze, pointing out the person in the bleachers to the rest of the group. Everything quieted a moment later, the bickering gradually hushing to a stop as everyone turned to look for themselves. Tanya released a frustrated huff moments later. 

“Oh, come on, who cares? This is _exactly_ why we aren’t…” She trailed off as the hood of the figure was pushed back, revealing red and black locks of hair. It was nearly impossible to see Claire’s expression from the distance they were at, but Amity knew it was smug, and her intentions couldn’t be good. 

Aaron seethed, taking a side step closer to Amity. “ _What is she doing here?_ ”

 _“I didn’t invite her.”_

Tanya scoffed loudly, turning back to face the group in an ostentatious manner that it nearly caused secondhand embarrassment. “That _bitch_ is trying to steal our routine!” 

The _leap_ Tanya made to that conclusion almost made Amity laugh, but nearly everyone believed the accusation, nodding along with her words and murmuring agreement. The squad was frustrated to the point of irrationality, completely buying the idea that a _Shamrock_ would ever want anything to do with one of _Tanya’s_ routines. Aaron cracked his knuckles, taking an agitated stride towards the stands. “I’m going to go confront her and give her something to—…” 

“Aaron, no. Wait.” Amity stepped in front of him, holding her hands up. “Let me do it.”

He wasn’t convinced in the slightest, and her eyes momentarily flicked over to the squad before holding his once again, taking a step closer. Her voice lowered, “ _This is my chance to confront her. I can move on like you said_.” Aaron still didn’t look satisfied by the reasoning, and she gave him a pleading look. 

“ _Please, just let me take care of it_.” Aaron hesitated, but after a moment he gave her a small nod. 

“I’ll cover for you.”

Amity let out a tense breath, immediately turning and running away towards the edge of the field, rhythm in her chest increasing with every step. The stands were empty now, but she knew Claire couldn’t have gone far.

Her body rushed around the bleachers and out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the school back doors slamming shut. Her palms crashed against the metal seconds later, and as she pushed her way through the entrance she found that Claire was right there waiting for her. The taller girl’s shoulder was pressed casually up against a nearby locker, indenting the flexible steel slightly with her weight. The school hall was dim, due to after-hours, and Amity got an immediate pang of uneasiness as soon as she heard the door slam shut behind her. 

_One on one._

“How’s the ankle? You took _quite_ a spill the other day, it was rather disappointing, actually...” Claire’s tone was taunting, not looking up from the chipped black nail polish she was examining on her hands, lips pulling into a smile. The grin brought out the girl’s dimples, and Amity nearly found pleasure in the sight, but she pushed it down. 

_Don’t lose your grip already._

“Why are you here?” Amity spoke as sternly as she could manage, but was nervous about the limited space between them. Claire let out a sigh, standing up and away from the locker, which caused the cheap material of it to pop back into form, loud noise from the movement banging through the silent hall. 

“I just wanted to see you again. There’s nothing wrong with that now, is there?” Her hair was straightened nicely, face made up lightly as well: Claire always was one for looking proper. However, her outfit was oddly casual. Jeans that hugged her slim form, and a hoodie that was just as fitting; though maybe the downgrade in clothing was to avoid standing out. But if that were the case, wearing Tyler’s shirt in order to look poor was quite an interesting move, and was even more of an indication that the two of them were having problems. 

“You made your stance with me very clear, before.” Amity did her best to stand confidently, “You’re not welcome here.” The constant increase of her heartbeat made her uncomfortable, hating the fact that Claire could do this to her without even trying. Attempting not to sound vulnerable despite deep down knowing that she did want answers. Claire’s smirk grew, seeing through the false confidence instantly and seemingly finding joy in it, soft hum escaping her lips.

“Hmm, I just don’t think that’s true, Bitty. You want something from me, and _I_ … I want something from you.” Claire turned on her heel, “Walk with me to my car, we can talk there. _Privately_.” With that, the girl turned and began moving down the hallway casually, not glancing back to make sure that Amity was following. Claire’s words were so unreadable, monotone, and dull, not to mention the fact that she completely disregarded Amity’s statement. But Amity couldn’t deny the fact that she _did_ want something, though it was nearly impossible to fathom what Claire could ever want from _her_. She stood there for a moment, hesitant, but then her body moved towards the other, walking quickly to catch up and then falling into step just behind her. 

“We could get in trouble wandering like this,” Amity said, but her words went unacknowledged once again, Claire’s gaze still ahead of them, pace unchanging. The sickness in her stomach began to rise, her breaths were growing shallow, and she could feel the anxiety bubbling just under the surface. Why couldn’t she just give up on her feelings? Amity had the opportunity to force her away, and yet here she was, giving in to demands like a fraud. The fact that Claire felt like she even had the right to come back and act this way at all was completely inconsiderate. It caused a flare of anger in Amity amidst all the dread she was experiencing. 

“Claire, stop.” Amity’s body halted abruptly, causing Claire’s to do so as well, turning partially to catch her eyes, acknowledging her presence for the first time since they began walking; up until that point she had been acting as if she was entirely alone in the hall. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

The taller girl let out a sigh at the words, a slow, calculated breath that almost seemed heavy. It was getting even harder to read what Claire’s intentions were, and the nerves in Amity’s stomach grew, even more, twisting and pulling at her, slowly grasping her and trying to drag her down. 

“I already _told_ you, I wanted to see you,” Claire said, and the words made Amity’s heart flutter, but she kept up her newfound front, knowing it was a lie. It _had_ to be.

“Why?” It didn’t make any sense, it had been radio silence up until this point. And Claire obviously thought she had the right to just step back in. As if the history they shared didn’t matter. Claire’s body turned to completely face her now, and it held a coldness to it, a distance that Amity remembered, but hadn’t experienced first-hand in a long time. Claire got like this, when she was upset, that hadn’t changed. But _why_ was she _upset_? 

“I’ll tell you when we get to the _car_.”

“ _No_ , you won’t. You’re _stalling_.” It was possible that Claire was doing this for attention, but that didn’t add up because she was in one of the most well-known families in town. _Everyone_ knew _everything_ about her. 

_What is her deal?_

The red-haired girl didn’t reply, instead frowning, taking a small step towards Amity, then another, and another. Amity’s heart leaped into her throat, beating faster with each inch the other tore away from their space, until Claire was right there, in front of her. The closeness between them felt so wrong, and yet she craved it, still. Claire leaned in slightly, and Amity took a step back, hands beginning to tremble. Her mind was moving too fast, and her breathing was hard to control. She took a few more panicked steps away, then her heel met a hard surface and she found herself trapped in a corner— created by where the wall met the end of a locker section. Claire had mirrored her steps, staying right with her and pressing her into the side of the locker slightly, though she wasn’t touching her.

“Breathe.” The taller girl spoke with a softness that wasn’t expected, so close Amity could feel her breath against her skin. The sensations of the moment were nostalgic, the other’s scent strong and familiar, bringing comfort. It was difficult to avoid those dark eyes, so she caved, finally tilting her chin up and meeting the gaze. With very few lights illuminating the hall, odd shadows were cast on them, nearly causing Claire’s face to appear warm and flushed. 

_You’re seeing things._

Amity blinked once, resisting the growing urge to grasp the other’s hands and hold them to stop her own from shaking, just like she used to… 

_This isn’t right. She’s using you for something._

“Claire.” Amity pulled them out of whatever moment they were having, tenderness of it all fading after she spoke. She needed to keep herself focused, getting wrapped up is exactly what Claire wanted. 

“Wow, you really are _such_ a turn off.” Claire scoffed, pulling away slightly but still keeping her in the corner, cold exterior returning after only a few moments of being down. Though Amity had regained herself enough to have a backbone now, shaky voice rising.

“ _This_ ,” Amity gestured in between them, “it’s not funny anymore. _Please_ , just be upfront with me.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“ _None_ of this is simple, Claire! I was fine, and now you’re _here. Fucking_ with me _again_ , like it’s some game...” Amity felt tears well up in her eyes, not because she was upset, but because the emotion of it all was so intense, holding so much weight. Streaks glided down her cheeks, and her breath hitched as the tears pooled at her chin. Claire’s gaze softened once again, though this time it held much more concerned. 

“Amity…” She said as she let out a breath, one of her hands slowly moving up, holding Amity’s eyes the entire time it did so. Then, the knuckle of her index gently swiped over one of the tear streaks. The touch was soft and loving, and Amity found herself wanting to lean into it. This is what she missed about her, what she had been _craving_ from her. Claire spoke again, more seriously now. “Just give me a chance.”

“There _aren’t_ any more chances!” Fresh tears gushed, and Amity’s hand grasped Claire’s wrist harshly and attempted to shove it away from her; it was impossible to stay strong while being touched by her. However, as soon as she clamped down, Claire gasped at the contact, ripping her arm away and taking a few swift steps back. Her pupils were blown, and she groaned, freehand shakily cradling her wrist, almost defensively. Amity fell into a panic of her own; she had never seen Claire act like that before, and certainly not in such a violent way. She had always been so calm and in control, but now she looked completely _terrified_.

“C-claire I’m sorry—…”

Tears fogged those brown hues, and without hesitation, she turned away from Amity, cold once again. “Save it. Just… fuck off.” Claire’s voice nearly cracked, jagged with raw emotion, and without another word, she rushed down the hallway. Leaving Amity in stunned silence. 

***

After that Amity refused to go back out onto the field and face the squad, instead retreating into the locker room to gather her things. It was hard to see through the blurriness of her eyes, tears continuing to form and fall at their own pace. She felt drained, completely out of herself, and on the verge of entirely collapsing. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time, but the interaction with Claire set something off in her that she wasn’t expecting. She was so worried about _her_ , and about herself. She didn’t know where to begin with processing it, feeling completely overwhelmed in sensation. There was so much _wrong_ here, Claire was trying to tell her something, and given the reaction to the contact… how much _pain_ it caused... There had to be more to this than she knew. Amity shouldn’t care, not after everything they had been through, but she did, _because_ of everything they had been through. 

Amity checked the time on her phone… cheer practice would be over soon. She needed to get out to her bike, needed to leave as soon as she could so she didn’t run into anyone. If she did, they would ask so many questions, and she didn’t have answers and… She choked on a sob, shoving the last of her clothes into her bag and rushing out of the locker room as it swung over her shoulder. The cool glass of her phone screen pressed to her ear, and after the vibration of two rings she heard a hitch on the line: someone picked up. 

“Harper… I need you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings for this chapter :)

“Then she… ran out. Without an explanation? Am I getting it right?” Harper’s words crackled from the other end of the phone, almost whisper-like. She had stepped out of her family event to fully take the call, which sparked mild pangs of guilt in Amity’s stomach, amidst every other sensation she was battling.

“Y…yeah.” Amity was walking towards her bike, away from the school. The harsh wind whooshed against her body, and added to the shakiness of her breaths, feeling the sickening advent of another anxiety attack looming over her. 

“Okay… How are you feeling now?” Her friend spoke calmly: the exact opposite of the whirlwind of emotions rushing through Amity’s mind. However, the gentle perspective helped, allowing her to take a breath; one that wasn’t as shallow as the ones proceeding it. And another deeper one after that. 

“I…” Her heartbeat was still erratic, and her voice cracked. “I’m so upset.”

“Don’t get on your bike just yet, you need to be calmed down first before you do anything else, okay? You have plenty of time before your dad is going to be expecting you home, so talk me through this.”

“Okay.” Amity had already filled Harper in on most of the events of that evening, explaining everything from the cheer practice, to her mental breakdown in one of the locker room stalls after Claire left.

The mild background chattering on Harper’s line faded, and the familiar squeak and thud of her bedroom door shutting echoed on the line. It made a smile come to Amity’s lips, even with the tears that were still streaming: grateful someone was willing to do this for her. 

“Have you told Aaron about your feelings?” Harper’s words were modulated in a comforting way, which was pleasant. 

Amity’s body was seated by the bike rack, legs crisscross, back slumped and she breathed an artificial chuckle. “You think he would understand?”

“He is your friend. Of course, he would understand.”

“I’m not so sure.” She let out another breath. “Besides, right now I’m not sure of… _anything_. I thought I was passed this.”

“Okay,” Harper replied. “Let’s try something different. Tell me what you want.”

“What…? I don’t know.”

“That’s what we’re figuring out. What do you want from cheerleading?”

“I… I want to win the championship, with Aaron.”

“Mhm… and what do you want out of school?” 

“To… graduate and go to college, you know that.” Amity said tautly, and Harper laughed a little.

“Yes. Now… what do you want with Claire?” It was a question Amity had been asking herself for a very long time, and it caused her to go quiet, thinking. Her breathing was calmer now, and despite the mild ache in her head she could think clearly, present in the moment rather than far away. 

“I just want… her.” She cleared her throat, “ _Her to be safe._ ”

“Hmm, let’s not waste time kidding ourselves. You know as well as I do that you’re into her.” Harper heaved a dramatic sigh, and it made Amity smile again. She stood up a moment later, briefly collecting herself, then throwing her leg over her bike and slowly starting down the sidewalk.

“But, how can I have all those things? They clash with each other.”

“Well, when we met freshman year I listened to you ramble about Claire _and_ the future you had planned with her _constantly_.” The word’s made Amity’s cheeks flush, burning slightly against the cool air. 

“That is _not_ true.” Harper began laughing at the denial, much to Amity’s demise.

“ _Yes_. ‘Oh Harper, Claire this, Claire that.’ You never tried to hide your gay once, it was and is entirely hopeless.”

“Well, can you blame me?” They both shared a laugh, and Amity let out a gentle sigh, breathing in the Autumn air deeply. “Thanks, for talking about this with me, Harper.”

“Nothing to worry about, I needed a break from my relatives, anyway.” She giggled, “Just… do what’s going to make you happy, okay?”

“I know, I know.”

“And maybe… reach out to her? Even if you ‘don’t still have feelings.’ If she _does_ need something from you, messaging her is a good way to start a proper line of communication.” Harper was right, and Amity sighed but didn’t push away the idea. 

“Maybe I will.”

The conversation with Harper was enough to ease Amity, at least to a point where she felt okay and in control of herself again. However, Harper had made some points that sparked a lot of discomfort, and denial. All this time Amity had been trying to convince herself that Claire was wrong for her, but why? What was the point in hiding it? For obvious reasons, Claire had a boyfriend, though… she wanted _something_ with Amity. It wasn’t romantic, it never was: and while Harper had been right, Amity does think about her future often, and she used to think about it with Claire in the picture, that was never what Claire wanted. At least… that’s what Amity had always assumed. 

They were best friends, and Claire was always there for her when she needed someone, through the hardest times of her life. They often held hands and spent most of their free time together… They even kissed once, in eighth grade during a sleepover. It had been Claire’s idea, _of course_ , and it was _only_ practicing for boys… _of course_. But ever since then, Amity couldn’t shake her from her heart, and the grasp the girl had on her was nearly suffocating. 

Amity knew that Claire needed her now, and despite not knowing the exact reason, she was going to be there for her. Amity didn’t want anything romantic with her, not this time, it was probably too late for that. But she was going to find out what was going on, anyway that she could. Claire wouldn’t have reached out like she did unless she needed something, that was the only thing that made sense. It was too out of character, otherwise. Either way, Amity was going to find answers, as quickly as she could manage. 

*** 

The short ride home was refreshing, giving her more time to clear her head before having to interact normally again. She wheeled her bike to its place by the side of their house, then she moved to the old police cruiser that was parked in the driveway, propping her elbow against the door gently and leaning in so that she could check her reflection in the side mirror of the car. Her face was still swollen slightly, but maybe Dad wouldn’t notice? 

There wasn’t much she could do about it now. So, she flipped her red hood up, and made her way up the front steps and into the home. The door squealed as she opened it, and it immediately caused a groan to echo from the kitchen. 

“… _that_ door…” Amity heard her father mumbling from the kitchen, but couldn’t see him. _Good_. She just needed to sneak by and get to her— “Amity.”

_Bedroom._

Her body halted, managing to get partially down the hallway before being stopped. “Yes?”

“You’re going to leave me all alone in the kitchen? I haven’t seen you all day, kiddo.” His tone was exaggerated, though it held hints of tiredness. He couldn’t have been home very long, she knew. He worked back to back shifts every now then, night shift and day shift with limited time in between. A small smile came to her lips, and she turned to partially face him, finding him leaning out of the kitchen to peer into the hallway at her. 

“I’m going to shower… Then I’ll be out. Promise.” 

“Alrighty, then.” He began humming, carefree again, reshuffling back into the kitchen. A sigh of relief pushed past her lips, and she continued with her plan. Shower, which would help erase the evidence of what had happened from her face, and get ready for bed. 

It’s exactly what she did, and she planned on locking herself away in her room, to think, despite her promise. Dad always worried, and she wasn’t good at hiding things, not from him. She took time to shower, a long one that consisted more of pondering than anything else. Then, after getting herself completely cleaned up, she opened the bathroom door quietly and began stepping down the hallway towards her room. But _again_ , she was stopped. The floor creaked beneath her weight, and Dad called for her immediately after. “Amity, come on in here.”

His tone wasn’t as light this time, and she grimaced, turning slowly and making her way out. She took a seat on the barstool, Dad’s back turned to her, rinsing the few dishes that were stacked in the sink. “Did you think you would be able to sneak away without giving me an explanation?”

“I’m… sorry, Dad I just—” He turned to face her, drying his hands with a dishtowel and frowning, though his eyes were stirring with mischief, as bright as ever. 

“It’s Friday, how could you forget?” 

_Right_. Every Friday night they watched their favorite TV show together, kind of a tradition. 

“I didn’t forget. I thought Lauren was coming over and I… didn’t want to come between you guys…” The ease of Dad’s expression changed, growing into one that was concerned. He moved forward, leaning down on the countertop directly across from her. His disheveled short brown hair matched the look of his wrinkled clothing, and his glasses rested lowly on the bridge of his nose. 

“This is our night, kiddo. You’re my girl, I love you.” She couldn’t meet his eyes, letting out a sigh. This wasn’t about Lauren, Amity didn't have a problem with her Dad’s girlfriend: she was good to him. “So, what’s really bothering ya?”

“It’s… not Lauren.”

“I know. You’ve been upset since you got home.” Amity finally met his eyes and felt tears well up in hers, blinking them away. 

“I’m stressed, I think. A lot is going on right now...” The oven beeped, awaking her other senses seemingly for the first time, finally acknowledging the aroma wafting through the room. Her eyes were on the sink of dirty bowls, and the mess on the counter. Dad moved to open the oven, and she gave him a questioning look. “Did you… make brownies?”

“Yep! Special for movie night, I know you like em.” He placed the pan on the stove, and she smiled at his subtly defeated body language: they were burnt. She wasn’t going to say anything, though, he would acknowledge it eventually. They didn’t have time to prepare homemade things very often, and they both were… _very_ bad in the kitchen, so the effort was appreciated. 

Amity’s mom was the one who made the meals before, a natural cook. She had worked at a diner just down the road and was one of the lead chefs there. It was wonderful, growing up cooking with her, in their old apartment’s kitchen. And when Claire started coming over they would all… cook together, like a true family. Not that what she had now wasn’t a family it just… wasn’t complete, not anymore. She bit down on her lip as her dad moved back to his place across from her, giving his full attention once again. “So, what’s stressing you?”

“Did you… and mom…” She saw his expression break a little, but she continued. “How did you know she was... the one?”

“Well I guess I didn’t.” He smiled softly, which was surprising, and he appeared reminiscent. “I knew that I loved being with her, and I just wanted to make that as long as I could.” 

“It’s that simple?” She asked.

“Well… sure! Things were never perfect. Hell, she broke up with me, multiple times.” He laughed softly, “But I just kept coming back and… I guess she realized I wasn’t leaving her. I wouldn’t give up.”

“She always said you’re where I got it from.” They shared a laugh, and then a sigh, one that held weight to it still, even after six years. Things like this never went away, even after moving on. 

“You haven’t asked me about Naomi in years. Relationship advise, from your old man? Why I’m honored.” He smiled, “Is there a new girl?” Dad seemed somewhat relieved by the idea of her trying with someone, which made her uncomfortable. He knew what Claire had meant to her, and in a way, he felt the heartbreak of everything, too. It almost seemed now like he had been waiting for her to move on from it. 

“Maybe.” She relished in the thought for a moment but pushed it away. Of course, there was trust between her and her dad, but she wasn’t going to tell him about Claire. Worrying him wouldn’t do anything, and sometimes he couldn’t separate the dad from the friend, or the dad from the cop, for that matter. What Amity was considering… he wouldn’t agree with, on many levels. “So… How about a brownie?” She asked casually, but the corners of her mouth pulled up on their own.

A smile formed across his features to match, “Depends on whether or not you like charcoal?”

She laughed, “They’re smoking. Cereal?”

“You bet.” 

*** 

Aaron blew her phone up Saturday morning, and she explained to him what happened the best she could manage. Though, she may have kept out all the details about her… _feelings. And_ maybe a few other details, as well. He wouldn’t understand, how could he? Harper insisted that he would, which gave her hope. However, the more she thought about it, the harder it was to imagine him being accepting of what she wanted to do, and the feelings she wanted to cave in to. 

Despite this worry, she worked through her feelings as the days progressed, gradually feeling more confident about what she needed to do. She _did_ care about Claire, she always had, and right now Claire needed her. She hadn’t responded to the text Amity sent her days prior, but that was how Claire was. She wasn’t going to outright _ask_ for help, you always had to guess, or assume. Before their falling out, Amity was able to pick up on when something was off with her, and over time she learned the best ways to help. But now, with how different their lives were and how little she knew about Claire, there was no knowing what could be going on. 

Through more conversations with Harper, Amity knew she needed to be upfront with Aaron about how she was feeling. They saw each other every day, and it was becoming harder to keep pretending that nothing was bothering her. Unlike Harper, Aaron either didn’t pick up on the signs at all or ignored them completely. That was usually okay because she didn’t expect it of him, it wasn’t who he was. He was, however, her friend, and she wanted to be truthful with him. He _might_ understand, right?

A week had passed now, and one week remained before the big cheerleading competition. Aaron was walking Amity towards work after practice one day, his house on the way, chatting casually about Tanya and the squad.

“Hey.” She broke a short moment of silence after seeing the opening, hands tightening slightly on the handlebars of her bike as she walked next to it. “I want to talk with you about some things.” 

“What’s up, Blake?”

“I still have feelings for Claire.”

“ _Yeah_ , but you got your shit together like I said you should.” He punched her shoulder gently, “I didn’t think you had it in you to tell her off last week. You proved me wrong.”

She frowned, glancing away. “That’s the thing. I didn’t really... _tell her off_.”

“What?” He nearly snapped the reply, and she immediately regretted bringing anything up. “You told me that you did.”

“I _tried_ to. Listen, she was acting weird… and now I think she might be in trouble.”

“Blake, she drinks and parties all the time, whatever trouble she’s in… it’s her fault and not your fucking problem. I told you she’s all bad news.”

“But Aaron, you just…” She sighed, “I think her boyfriend is _hurting_ her, or… _something_.” 

Aaron laughed, a cold chuckle that made Amity feel gross and small, it seemed that’s just how being with him felt, now. It was different. “Okay, and what are you going to do about it?” He asked.

“Well,” Her tone raised slightly, feeling defensive. “I was thinking about going to his house, and confronting him.” Aaron stopped in his tracks, grasping the seat of her bike with one hand to pull her to a stop with it. 

“You’re fucking with me.”

“No, I’m not. I know something is going on with him, I saw him and Claire… and they were…” Amity let out another sharp breath, “I don’t _know_. My dad is an officer, maybe she came to me because she needs that kind of help?”

“Amity.” He called her by her first name. “If she needed the police she wouldn’t bother _you_. Besides, her boyfriend… Tyler Johnson?” She nodded at his pause for the question, “He’s a twig, how could he possibly hurt her?”

Aaron had a point, but Amity knew something was wrong, still. “I just… have a feeling, okay? I need answers, and she’s not giving them to me so—“

“Because she doesn’t care about you.”

“I’ve been thinking about this, and… it’s what I’m going to do, with, or without you.” She yanked her bike away from him, taking a few small steps back. He laughed, shallow and hollow. 

“You want me to go with you? To some punk’s house, because you have a _‘feeling’_?”

“Yes I… I _did_ , because it’s important to me.”

“No way, I’m not getting in trouble over bitchy Rodriguez, she's not worth the time of day.” His words made her silent, but she held his gaze, and he continued. “What if you get hurt? What about cheer?”

“With Tanya as captain we’re never going to get anywhere. I want to win the championship, with you, but she’s too much. And… after Claire transferred I just… I just don’t like cheer as much as I used to. It isn’t the same without her.” 

“Why is this just coming up now? What about me, and your friends now?” His voice dropped in tone, and his shoulders pinched back. “You never think about anyone but yourself. Can’t you just do this for me?”

“Aaron, I’ve been doing this with you since freshman year and now… now I’m just not so sure it’s what I want anymore. I’ve tried for long enough.”

“Whatever, Blake.” He gesticulated dismissively. “You do whatever you want, that’s what you’re going to do anyway. Just keep me out of it, I’ll see you around later.”

With that, he left her to herself. It was selfish of her to expect so much from him, she shouldn’t have said anything. And he had every right to be angry, but… there wasn’t any turning back now. This is what she was going to do, a plan she was going to follow. 

_For closure._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much for trigger warnings in this chapter. Anxiety and drugs, nothing very explicit. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! <3

After work that evening, she finalized her confrontation plan. What she wanted to do was dangerous, and ignorant. But it’s all she could think to do; stand up to Tyler and get the answers she needed. It was true that Amity only had circumstantial evidence, very little in fact, so the police weren’t an option, not yet. Taking things to an extreme based on a hunch wasn’t the brightest idea, either, yet it is exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t stupid, but she was willing to do stupid things, for Claire. 

The plan was simple, go to Tyler’s house, stand up to him, and see what kind of evidence she could gather. It was daunting for a multitude of reasons, all of which made her anxiety scream. Amity was going alone, she wasn’t telling her dad, Tyler was a stranger she knew little to nothing about... Though despite these worries, she was going to follow through, this was the chance for closure, for answers about everything. If she could help Claire with _whatever_ was going on, then maybe Claire would… give her the peace of mind she always wanted. _Maybe_ she was looking too far into it, but she needed answers, and this was her chance. 

It was Saturday morning now, six days until the competition and the perfect time to follow through with her plan. It was laid out completely for her; her dad was home, offering the car _if_ she was able to convince him to let her take it. The address was already put into her phone; she _casually_ looked on her Dad’s laptop while he was asleep, rummaging the police system and finding Tyler’s name there. She couldn’t get access to all of his information, that required passwords, but his name _was_ in there, along with his cell number and mailing address. Claire was dating a criminal, how… _nice._

Amity had pepper spray, something her dad had provided her a long time ago, and the perfect thing to fall back on if something backfired. She always had 911 on speed dial too, just in case. She informed Harper of what she was doing, who refused to help with the plan, like Aaron, not wanting to get involved in something stupid. However, Harper agreed to help for the sake of safety and being a supportive friend. They planned the details out together, from the drive over, to what could happen if things went wrong. Running through hypothetical scenarios with her helped ease the ever-growing anxiety, which would keep Amity from staying focused.

There was also a chance that Tyler wouldn’t be there at all, considering she was visiting his family’s home address and there were many rumors of him getting kicked out. Amity hadn’t thought about how she would get answers if he wasn’t there, but she would figure it out if the situation arose. The possibility of going to _Claire’s_ house _had_ floated through her mind, but that was an incredibly daunting task and not ideal in any way.

Getting the car from Dad would be the most challenging part. She didn’t want to be dishonest with him, which was just overthinking, considering she went through his computer. But being honest wasn’t an option: he would never let her do this, especially if he knew it was for Claire. He wasn’t going to let Amity go back to her, not after all the heartache. It was the protectiveness in him, which she appreciated, but right now wasn’t the time for it. 

With her things collected on her person; fully charged cell phone and pepper spray in her back pocket, she casually strolled out of her room and into the kitchen. The TV was on, volume at an inaudible level and she could see Dad leaning back nonchalantly in his worn recliner, clearly dozing off more than he was paying attention.

“Morning.” Amity greeted, and she leaned down on the counter, contemplating her words. He gave her a small hum for a reply, though he didn’t look back at her, drowsiness in his tone as he spoke. 

“Morning, kiddo. How’d you sleep?”

“Good… Can I take the cruiser for a drive?” There was a moment of silence, and it made her uncomfortable, afraid she may have been _too_ straight forward. “I’ll fill it up, _and_ be back well before your shift tonight. I just want to… get out.” She added.

“Sure, why not?” He yawned, stretching back a little more in the chair, and she was practically at the door by the time he spoke again. “Just be careful.”

“Oh, yeah.” Amity grasped the keys from the hook, “Careful.”

***

The drive through town was one she rarely made. It was interesting to see what things were like, how different it was depending on where you were. Everyone was aware of the divide, but that didn’t change the intrigue of it. Amity sometimes wondered what visitors thought of it all; if they saw the divide, too. Even on the upper-middle-class side of town, which is where she was, the buildings somehow looked so clean, a bright aesthetic to them that was nearly alluring. This side of town was newer than the other side, offering happier emotions and feelings with the travel through it. The streets were paved nicely, and the buildings that lined the road were modern and welcoming. 

Amity had been to this apartment complex once before, over the summer, to have dinner with Lauren and her family. It was a pleasant experience, even within the mild resentment of where the woman lived, and her status. Amity was working on that.

Eventually, she arrived at the apartment complex she was looking for. One that was similar to all the rest, and somewhat familiar, due to her prior visit. It was marked by a large stone sign with bold letters, and she pulled onto the street.

_Hollow Ridge._

She drove slowly down the road, taking in all of the buildings that were the same, with the same amount of space in between them. They were cookie-cutter buildings, and Amity found it to be similar to how her neighborhood was, with the tiny rental houses lined up, one by one, all the same, but with different stories. Not everything had to be different, she supposed.

The police cruiser turned into a driveway marked ‘G7’, then she twisted the keys and turning the engine off, though she didn’t get out right away. Something about actually being there made everything seem so _real_ all of a sudden. Her stomach twisted. Her heart wrenched and gradually fell out of rhythm. Hands grasped the steering wheel, followed by shallow breaths. 

_Breathe. You can do this._

Amity closed her eyes, drawing as deep a breath she could manage, which wasn’t very strong, but it was something. Then one following another until she had control of it again, her chest pumps gradually slowing back into a comfortable pace. A small sigh was released, still feeling vulnerable, and growing numb, but ignoring it. As soon as the door popped open and her sneaker met the pavement she felt the disassociation begin, mind and body separate, reality pulling at the seams. She prayed it would contain itself, that she could do this, without messing up. It’s what needed to be done. 

She couldn’t feel herself walk up the stairs, or knock on the door, but she knew she did. It happened in a blur, and before she knew it, the front door opened and she was snapped back to reality. Her eyes blinked into focus, flicking up from her daze to find an older woman in the doorway, a warm smile on her lips that somehow instantly melted away a bit of the anxiety. 

“Hi!” The woman greeted her, swinging the door open more and standing next to it, though not completely welcoming just yet. “What can I do for you, darling?”

“Oh… I—needed…” She lost her words for a moment, the woman’s features enticing, a glow to them that just radiated warmth. The freckles across her skin matching the long blonde waterfall curls that fell down her back, slight wrinkles in her skin: the only indication of her age. Amity cleared her throat to keep the focus ahead, “Is Tyler here?”

“Well, he sure is. Come on in.” The woman stepped to the side, “I’m Tyler’s mother, but you may call me Julie.” 

“Amity. It’s nice to meet you.” Amity smiled at her, moving inside. The apartment had a pleasant buzz to it, just something about the lighting, and the smells. 

“You can leave your shoes by the door, dearie.” 

“Okay.” 

Julie moved into the kitchen, and Amity tentatively followed her, trying not to look awestruck by how nice the interior was: it wasn’t polite to gawk, even in an admiring way, but it was difficult. She shouldn’t have expected anything less... Even the paint on the walls seemed brand new and bright, nothing like old wallpaper she was used to. “You may take a seat if you would like to.”

“Oh.” Amity smiled, probably more of a stupid grin than anything else. She took a seat on the barstool, watching as Julie resumed plopping blobs of cookie dough onto a tray, the scent of warm cinnamon wafting from the baked batch indicating they were oatmeal. 

_Pretty woman._

“How did you meet Tyler? He doesn’t have friends over very often, it’s been hard for him since he graduated.”

 _Oh, right… Tyler._

“It was through… a mutual _friend_.” 

Julie hummed and opened her mouth to shoot another question, but a smaller girl entered the kitchen, grasping both of their attention. Her eyes were glued to her cell phone, and they only momentarily flicked up to acknowledge Amity. “You the one with the cop car?” She asked nonchalantly, showing her mouth full of braces, which was probably the reason for her faint lisp. 

“That’s… me.” 

“Cool.” 

“Abby, will you go fetch your brother? Tell him someone is here to see him,” Julie asked, sliding a new tray of cookies into the oven. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Moments later Tyler emerged from the hall, appearing in the entryway. “Whatever they’re saying, I didn’t—.” He cut himself off when he saw Amity, and his eyes glared down for a moment, then cautiously drifted over to his mom, who was smiling between them. She didn’t sense the bad blood, which Amity herself hadn’t been expecting: but it was clearly there, present the second they made eye contact. 

“Ah, Amity. You’re not the police.” His words were meant to be humorous, clear by his pause for effect, not his tone. She nearly felt to urge to ask him how he knew her name, but that wasn’t important, especially not with his mom right there. There was no reason to alarm her, and a silent message passed between the teens, a look that suggested they take this elsewhere. Being discreet was probably for the best, all things considered. He cleared his throat, “I have got a few things I’ve been wanting to discuss with you.” 

The words made her heart drop, and the uneasiness of the situation returned tenfold. This is what she had wanted, and been expecting, yet it _still_ made her feel regret. No going back now, though. “Me too.” 

Julie smiled, “Oh, Tyler, sweetheart, why don’t you take you and your friend back some cookies. They are your favorite, and I’m sure she would—.”

“No,” Tyler said, completely deadpan as he turned away, a brief glare towards the woman. “Later.” His body passed through the entryway, back down the hall, “This way, Amity.”

_He is an asshole…_

Amity slid off of the barstool, offering Julie an awkward glance of sympathy before following reluctantly after Tyler.

The hall was short, similar to the one in her home, though several doors lined it. She got a decent glance into the bathroom, which was relatively spacious, and clean. All other doors were shut, but she assumed they were just as nice on the inside. The entire house was polished, probably to the credit of Julie. She seemed like a good mom, faintly reminding Amity of her own, in some ways. Amity liked her: her presence was pleasant and virtuous. However, Tyler’s _wasn’t_ , and the growing sense of uneasiness twisted in her stomach with every step she made. 

They walked to the very back of the hallway, and into a dimly lit room. The blinds were drawn, though bright luster pierced around the corners; the only natural light shining through the area. It was almost like walking into an entirely different world. The floors were cluttered, clothes and shoes scattered with soda cans and even an… entire pizza box in the corner. An eerie sensation fell over her, and while Tyler’s back was to her she gave in to an urge and cautiously slid the pepper spray out of her back pocket, shoving it into the front pocket of her hoodie. 

“Shut the door behind us, will you?” He cooed, throwing himself down onto his unmade bed. A wreaking smell stung the back of her throat, one she recognized immediately as marijuana, and an even fainter sweet smell… almost like raspberry, the entire mix completed by body odor. The vape pen the boy pulled from his night table was an answer for her about the sweet smell. She did as he asked, pushing the door closed but leaving it cracked slightly. There was a TV mounted on one of the walls, and several desks below it with large PC screens on each, a plethora of equipment resting under all the tables. Cords aided in the mess across the floor, and she had to watch her step as she cautiously maneuvered further inside. The room was hot, the air thick and the artificial lighting mixed with the dimness of the room made the back of her headache. If this is what his life entailed… it was completely opposite to her idea of bliss.

 _Claire has a nice taste in men._

“So, are you just going to stand there?” Tyler asked with a low chuckle, and he took a puff from the pen. He gave off a terrible vibe of false superiority, and it made her want to smack him, which was an urge she wasn’t used to having, but relished in. He was taller than her, though most were and he was rather lanky: it wouldn’t be the _hardest_ fight. His size made it seemed like he didn’t eat, though the immense amount of food wrappers on his floor suggested otherwise. She didn’t see him as a threat, but he still made her fraught. Tyler had beady eyes and a crooked grin, with bad intentions, she knew his intentions were bad. That was what she needed to find confirmation about.

“How do you know who I am?” She asked, shuffling slightly to slide a roller seat out from one of his desks as best she could manage; just enough to pivot the seat around and sit on it. As she did this, Tyler rolled over on his side to face her, light from the many screens showing his twisted features. 

“Claire.” He answered, “I could never get her to hush in regards to you, it was incredibly vapid.” The words made Amity smile despite herself.

_She talks about me…_

“She has an interesting taste in lowlifes,” Amity replied, entirely proud of herself for having the boldness to make such a strong remark, pushing through the nervousness that tingled in her fingertips.

“I happen to be the most sophisticated man in this town. However, most people haven’t come to see that, yet. Though Claire knows a good mate when she sees one.”

“Sophisticated? Your favorite cookie is… oatmeal.” Amity couldn’t help but smirk, _another_ come back. But it sparked a new level of stress, and her hand was in her hoodie pocket, fingers nervously running down the can, keeping her mind with the moment. 

“Relevancy?” He asked, but she honestly couldn’t tell if it was rhetorical or not. The way his eyes were studying her so sharply made her even more uncomfortable like he was trying to find a weakness. Amity let out a tense sigh a moment later, swiveling the seat of the chair slightly to let up some more energy; groping the can wasn’t enough. 

“I broke up with her.” He finally said, rolling onto his back now, staring up at the ceiling and taking another breath from his pen. Thick vapor being released a moment later. “She was surprisingly dull, overall. Not much worth my while, anymore.”

_Blunt..._

Tyler caught her eye again, continuing, “I know exactly why _you’re_ here.” His voice lowered, smirking. “ _I_ never touched her.”

“I...” Amity cleared her throat, surprised by his sudden forthcomings. The fact that he said something like that validated the situation: Claire _was_ in trouble. “…never said anyone touched her. But if it isn’t you, then who is it?”

Her hand tightened around the can in her pocket, and he smiled. “Calm down, sweetheart. I’ll tell you whatever you want to hear.”

“I’m going to cut right to the chase. I know you’ve been hurting Claire so just… tell me why.”

The boy laughed, a nasally laugh that made her anxiety boom through her chest. “Picture this.” He sat up in his bed, throwing his legs over the side and facing her once again. “A girlfriend that _never_ goes down on you. She refused to.”

Amity felt heat rise under her skin, growing irritated. “So, you hit her? Hurt her…?”

“Me? No. But I know who might.”

“Who?”

“Another… _scenario_ , if you will.” His tone was repressed, giving her the sense that he was holding back. “She was shallow, would never give me what I wanted.” 

_“Sex?”_

“Hmm, sure.”

Amity found herself leaning forward in her seat, realizing that this felt like a game of cat and mouse. He knew more than he was letting on, and he was having too much fun. 

“You’re upset. Why?” He asked, reading her thoughts. He had been leading the conversation this entire time, but she didn’t know how to change that, how to flip the narrative, and gain control. He was good at this.

“You’re deflecting, that’s why. Just tell me what’s wrong with Claire, and… you won’t have to deal with me again.”

“Oh, honey, I’ve had to deal with you for a long time. Your… _threat_. But, fine. For your effort, I will give you something, a pity prize, just for you. Claire is addicted—sick if you will.”

“She’s had trouble with alcohol for— a long time. She’s a partier… I thought you would know that.” She spoke flatly, followed by a glare.

“Mhm, well. I work at Shamrock, I am still there daily… and I’ve got a _pretty_ good grasp on what happens there, with the crowds and the cliques’ etcetera, etcetera… she doesn't attend school regularly, and no one knows why. But I might.” He smiled again, and it nearly gave her icy chills, “Have you ever heard of… Ketamine?”

“No.”

“It is a drug. It can, as I’ve come to learn, make people very compliant with classified information. I found she was under its influence… when I visited her home, though there were other instances, too.” Amity’s brows pulled together. Claire having a drug addiction just didn’t make sense, not with how her mom was. Alcohol was one thing but… _How much had Claire changed?_

“What information?”

“Let’s just say that I… learned a few things, more than I initially intended to.”

Amity pushed out of the chair, taking a few quick steps towards Tyler; the best she could while wading through the clutter. Her knees were shaky, and she felt dizzy, letting out a sharp breath, but managing to speak. “You aren’t telling me anything!”

“You came to _my_ house making demands, sweetheart. Maybe instead of accusing me of something sinister, you should accuse someone else. Someone… closer.”

“You’re… going to regret not telling me what you know.”

“I gave you _plenty_ to work with. And for realism's sake, _you’re_ the one who is going to regret this, Amity Blake. Because I told Claire that if anything ever came of…” He trailed off, clearing his throat after a moment and calmly standing to his feet; the first time he had lost his composure this entire time, a small victory. His hands clasped together, and he spoke again in a soft smothered tone as if sharing a secret. “I know things. And I am going to share things… soon. But you, my friend, have just sped up the process of revealing. So… thank you for that.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder, and she jerked away from him, nearly tripping with the movement, but she caught herself. 

“You’re a coward… When I find out what is going on— I’m going to put it on you, _first_.”

“Oh, how precious. Listen, someone _will_ be persecuted, but it won’t be me. I’ve done bad things, but bad people don’t face consequences if they have dirt on the accuser.”

“You have dirt on me?”

Tyler smiled, revealing his crooked teeth once again, and she grimaced. “I might, though… you’re not worth my time. Just stay out of my way, that’s what Claire did.”

“And look at her now!” Amity took a few steps back towards the door, watching Tyler standing there with a smirk still on his lips. Her hand reached for the doorknob, grasping it, eyes still on him. “Whatever is going on… you just let it happen, you didn’t _help_.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. It’s all part of the game, sweetheart.” 

Amity ripped the door open and burst out of the room. She pushed pasted Abby, who was an unfortunate crossfire between her and the living room, and she cursed at herself when she reached the front door; having to stop and put her shoes back on. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes, and she could hear the gentle words of Julie calling out to her as she struggled. Amity drowned the voices out until she was able to fling the front door open, practically _leaping_ out of the prim apartment and back into the world. It felt like she could breathe again, the atmosphere outside so much lighter. 

Even with the breath of fresh air, she felt herself slipping away, losing her grasp. She moved into the cop car, locking the doors before hers was even shut. Her forehead pressed against the leather of the steering wheel, and the pressure felt uncomfortable, but she needed to feel _something_. 

_Calm, calm, calm…_

Nothing made sense, Tyler had known she was coming. He had been waiting for that, to mess with her like that. It was all a game, and it frustrated her. She thought this was just Claire getting in trouble, but clearly, there was more… with more people involved.

_What information did he give?_

Her breath hitched, and she could feel her heartbeat growing erratic. What hints were dropped? Was this a conspiracy? Was it a trick? Was this nothing at all and she was looking too far into something she shouldn’t? Grasping onto false hope… 

She groaned, sitting back in the seat to open her airway as her chest began to pump faster, taking a few breaths before shakily putting the key into the ignition and turning it.

_‘Accuse someone else… someone closer.’_

Who was closer to Claire than her boyfriend? Did she have close friends? A blackmailer? The only person Amity could think of was Mr. Rodriguez, and that felt like a stretch. His alcoholism _was_ a problem, so maybe he did have a small part in it. But drinking was always Claire’s decision, and she _never_ touched hard drugs. Mrs. Rodriguez had been such a hard abuser that Claire refused, despite her desire to fit in with those kinds of crowds. She had to watch her mother completely slip away and was severely exposed to it in the time leading up to the divorce. How much it impacted her was something Claire was embarrassed about, especially considering her social group and her character, but she had always stood by the moral that she wouldn’t do that. At least, that's how it _used_ to be.

_What is ketamine?_

Amity pulled out her phone, making a quick search, and scanning through the information.

_Hallucinations, drowsiness…_

Frustration further ached in her head, and she struggled to form thoughts.

 _Why would she be doing that?_

She let out a breath, grasping the steering wheel and letting her nails bite into it. There was only one thing left to do... _Claire's house._


End file.
